


You Look Like Trouble (Morning Glory Wine)

by dandyqueen



Category: Deadpool (Movieverse), Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/F, F/M, Multi, Slow Burn, but you were wrong, you may not have thought you had a daddy kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2019-06-14 07:57:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15384216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dandyqueen/pseuds/dandyqueen
Summary: Cable knows that saving the future is a full-time job. Wade totally gets that, too. You know what makes saving the future even better? Making sure that the present doesn't suck while you do it.





	1. You Can't Grow Feathers in the Rain (Seasons)

**Author's Note:**

> In honor of the man who awakened a hidden daddy kink within all of us strong enough to make Freud roll over in his grave.

Another strange call kept Vivian in the back room at Sister Margaret's longer than she'd intended to be there. She was pretty used to getting strange calls at stranger times, usually from men who were bleeding or already mostly dead; she had quite a knack for packing their innards back into their bodies. She received a lot of weird-ass calls, but as weirdness goes, this one was near the top of the list, mostly because it was from Wade Wilson.

Being that Wade was nigh unkillable now, it just seemed odd that he'd need her to stitch him up. In fact, that was how she met Wade. She’d been packing his organs back into their proper place for years until he disappeared and popped back up a couple years later with regenerative abilities and the face of an atomic disaster. After that, he didn’t have much use for her skill set anymore.

Oh, yeah, sure, it used to be a pretty regular occurrence before the mutation. He'd get stabbed, or break something, or hell, he'd gotten shot once or twice. She'd get the call, and he'd drag in bleeding from some orifice. And of course, he couldn't pay her up front (even though she could usually see a healthy wad of cash peeking over the edge of his front jeans pocket), so she'd trade work for work.

Get stitched up, go rip some stitches out.

Wade wasn't the only one who couldn't pay up front sometimes, but the thing was, Wade always offered a service in return. The other miscreants never did. Assumption of the risk, Vivian supposed, when you pull second-shift stitching up hitmen and mercenaries on the down-low. At least Weasel was courteous enough to let her use the backroom for free. Apparently an in-house doctor is good for business.

So yeah, after Wade's mutation, Vivian usually called HIM, instead of the other way around. Sometimes she needed him to go collect payments, which he was fantastic at doing. Hiring a mercenary who can’t die means that collections are basically guaranteed.

It was quite a shock when her phone rang. Wade was so delicate about it, like he was asking her if he could borrow the latest, greatest bestselling novel. “What's up, hotter Dr. House? You at Sister Margaret's?”

Vivian snorted into the phone speaker. “Where else am I usually at on a Friday night?”

“Hey, I don't know what you're into.” Yes, he does. “So listen, I need a bit of a rimjob - I mean, a stitch job - so I’ll be stopping through in, oh, about fifteen minutes.”

“Whatever you need, it's cash only-"

He always hangs up the fucking phone.

No more than ten minutes pass before Wade's beating down the door. He's not alone, either. And he's not the one injured. Well, he is injured, but the hand is growing back. (There were weird little baby fingers dangling from a soft, pale nub of flesh. God, that shit’s creepy.)

Wade hauled the guy in with him. The arm that didn’t have alien finger nubs protruding from the base was wrapped securely around the man’s waist in order to help drag him through the doorway. The man’s pant leg was ripped from hip to mid-thigh; frayed fibers hanging delicately from the rip were covered in black, sticky blood. He didn’t seem to be in pain; in fact, he seemed more like the significant, gorey gash in his thigh was a mild inconvenience rather than a life-threatening wound.

Wade deposited his injured buddy in the exam chair and limped off to the visitor’s chair to nurse his own wounds (the creepy baby hand). Vivian had learned it was better not to ask what happened and instead just wait for the inevitable word vomit. She just picked up her medical bag, fished out the needle and thread, and set to work cleaning and stitching.

Wade huffed, holding his baby hand under his chin. “Where’s the Bactine? You always have a stash somewhere in here.”

“Bactine won’t help that monstrosity,” Vivian said. She doused the man’s wound in saline solution to clean it and set to work clipping the dead skin. “You gonna introduce me to your friend, Wade?”

The way that Wade was holding his baby hand in his non-baby hand kind of made him look like Gollum with the Ring. “Dr. Sharpe, meet the living embodiment of daddy kink. Daddy Kink, meet the lady doctor you see in all the pornos.”

Vivian rolled her eyes. “Vivian Sharpe. I stitch up hitmen.”

His answering voice was gruff, but didn’t betray any amount of pain he may have been in. “Cable. Mercenary.”

“Lovely to meet you. I’ll make this as quick as possible.”

“That would be appreciated.”

Vivian took pride in the fact that she was quick and efficient. Once she'd cleaned the wound and removed the dead skin, she made quick work of closing it up. Not once did she hear Cable whine or groan; she did catch him flinching a few times when she poked a couple of particularly sensitive places, but he didn’t make a peep. She would have giggled if she hadn’t been trained to have a tolerable bedside manner. Mercenaries all tried to be so tough.

Cable would be pretty sore for the next couple of days, depending on whether he was human or a mutant with a healing factor. Vivian thought she’d seen something strange under his skin, but she couldn’t be sure. As soon as she’d seen it, it was gone. Once she was finished with his wound, she tied the line of stitches off once she was finished and stripped her rubber gloves off.

She pulled a bottle out of her bag and shook a couple of pills out, then passed them off to him. “Even big, tough mercenaries get a little sore when they get their leg split open, so take these.”

He threw them back before she could get him a glass of water.

Vivian smirked. Yep, mercs were all the same. “Be sure not to get those stitches wet for a couple days. I'll give you something to take until it heals up.”

“Alright. ‘Preciate it, doc.”

“Sure thing. If it starts looking funny, come back and see me and I'll take a look at it.”

Cable reached over his back for his backpack (the words “fanny pack” drifted through Vivian’s mind, but she said nothing). “How much do I owe you?”

Vivian shrugged and waved him off. “You don't owe me anything. I'll get it out of Wade later.”

Wade dropped whatever he was holding in his hands (a jar of q-tips). “Wait, what?”

Vivian had asked Wade last week to go collect on two mercenaries who came in with gunshot wounds, but she had yet to see her payments. Wade was a busy guy, so she could understand that it took him a few days sometimes. But it’s not like she didn’t pay him. And let him sleep on her couch sometimes. Baseline was, she wanted her money.

Rather, she kind of needed her money.

Cable quirked an eyebrow. “You sure?”

Vivian waved again. “Wade still hasn't collected on a couple people that I asked him to collect on, so no worries. He’ll take care of the bill.”

Wade shrugged. He already knew that he was behind on his own payments. “Fair enough.”

“Well, I do appreciate it, doc,” Cable said, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. He stood up, testing his weight on his leg. The muscle flexing under his wound definitely got him to flinch a little bit.

Vivian heard what vaguely sounded like gears shifting every time he moved, but thought nothing of it. No telling what these mercs carried around with them. She couldn’t see most of his body, either. She wouldn’t discount the fact that he might not be entirely human, or entirely organic. Wouldn’t be the weirdest thing she’d ever seen.

Vivian handed him a bottle with a few little pink pills in it. “Are you allergic to anything?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Then take that every six hours. And be careful next time.” Vivian looked over at Wade, who hadn't bothered to take his mask off. “You got a minute? We need to discuss our arrangement.”

“I’ll leave you two to talk.” Cable slipped out the front door with a last look at Vivian. “And thanks again. If you need some work done, let me know.”

Well, at least this merc offered services in return. She was inclined to trust a mercenary who didn't just run out the door after the blood was washed off. And oddly enough, she trusted most of Wade’s weird friends (not Weasel). He’d certainly dragged in some oddballs over the years, but they were relatively harmless (to her) and well-adjusted (but she wasn’t a psychiatrist, so who knew). And they all paid up.

“Sure thing. Come back and see me if you need to.”

Cable shut the door gently behind him and disappeared off into the bar.

Wade hopped into the vacated chair. “Alright, McSteamy, what was that all about? I’ve never seen you not charge someone.”

“Blackmail, Wade. I need you to go collect for me,” Vivian said. She rummaged through the cabinet behind her for a bottle of disinfectant and a mop. Weasel liked for her to clean up the blood at night; it never took long, so she agreed.

“Aaaand?”

Vivian brandished the mop at him, dumping a measure of the disinfectant on the floor. “And I need my money by tomorrow night.”

“Aw, I was kind of hoping you were gonna say you want to see how many times you can get Daddy Kink to call you his babygirl.” Wade swung his legs like a child, even though his legs were about a foot too long to do that. “Anyway, no problem, I’ll go be a debt collector. But what's the rush? You never give me deadlines.”

“Child support.”

Wade stretched his newly-grown fingers. They were approximately the size of an actual toddler’s fingers now. “What, you don't make enough at the clinic and doing this?”

“I do fine at the clinic, it’s just that my son is in middle school now, and he needs more for, like, school functions and… I don’t know, sports. I - I don’t know what he likes…”

Vivian couldn’t see Wade’s face, but she could hear the grimace in his voice. “The ex-husband still not letting you see them?”

“No.”

“I can take care of that, you know. Just a double tap away.” Wade mimed pulling a trigger with his tiny toddler fingers.

Vivian sighed. “What, kill the bastard and have my kids taken away completely? The government doesn’t give mutants their kids back, Wade. Besides, he's a decent dad, he's just...”

“The human equivalent of a particularly liquidy diarrhea shart?”

“Basically.”

Wade had been fiddling around with anything and everything that he could gets his hands on. Watching him touch everything usually drove Vivian crazy, but she was too tired to bother him about it. Besides, she tried not to yell at people she had jobs for.

He tossed the roll of gauze he’d been unraveling to the side of the trashcan (and yet, not in it). “I’ll have it by tomorrow night. You’ll be here, I guess?”

“As usual.”

“Well, get some sleep. Sleepy doctors make for sad patients.”

Vivian motioned at him with a lightly bloodied mop. “I’m heading home as soon as I get the blood cleaned up.”

Wade opened the door. The smell of beer and vomit permeated the room, suffocating the smell of astringent. “Also, you should think about ol’ Daddy Kink out there. He’s lonely and grumpy.”

“Stop trying to set me up with your weird friends, please. Not interested in dating.”

He poked his head back though the door. “Well, at least get some good dick.”

“I have a special showerhead to take care of all my needs, thank you.”

“Oooo, can I come try it?”

“No.” Vivian picked up the discarded roll of gauze and threw it at him. “Go get my money.”


	2. She Comes Around Here Just About Midnight (Gloria)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there are jobs to be done.

‘Go get my money’ meant ripping out a line of stitches and re-breaking an arm, but Wade got Vivian’s money. He always did. Sometimes he even got a little extra cash out of his marks, which he liked to call his collections fee. Vivian would be ecstatic.

It was a small matter, really, getting her money. Wade already knew where both of these idiots lived because he’d worked jobs with both of them before. He could justify his actions by saying that this was basically just a polite drop-in, albeit a drop-in punctuated by broken limbs. A normal Saturday afternoon for these guys, honestly. And Vivian would get some repeat business, what with the bones puncturing the skin. Men of their caliber wouldn’t dare go to a real hospital for treatment. 

Hopefully, these two would learn a valuable lesson: always pay your debts, kids.

It wasn’t quite late enough in the day for Vivian to be working at Sister Margaret’s yet, but all that cold, hard cash was burning a hole in Wade’s pocket, so he decided to stop at the clinic to see if she was there. Before he'd even hopped out of Dopinder’s taxi, he’d spotted her car. The car was parked out back - a tiny little contraption, easy to spot, all black and shining in the afternoon sun - and figured he’d just pop in for a quick second. He wouldn’t be the weirdest person to have shown up at the clinic. He wouldn't be the weirdest person  _ in _ the clinic.

Wade blew into the clinic like he was the man in charge, which he wasn’t, but life is all about appearances. He’d left the suit at home and instead donned a black hoodie and old grey sweatpants instead. Honestly, he looked a little like a drug dealer, but he was right at home in the tiny clinic.

Vivian’s clinic was just a medstop on the corner of Not Good and Not Bad Street. It was small, overgrown and vaguely run-down on the outside, but it was clean and quaint on the inside. There were medstops on every corner in cities as big as this one; this one was just one of many. The only people who ever came in were ever-so-shady and distractingly derelict, but generally harmless. Hence, why Wade was right at home.

Wade walked up to the receptionist’s window and tapped on the glass. “Hi, Charlene!”

The receptionist looked up at him and broke into a wide grin. She was an older lady with graying dark hair and deep laugh lines, quite a matronly figure, but she always lit up like Christmas when she saw him. Wade liked to think that he had that kind of effect on people. He was wrong, but there were still people who did light up when they saw him.

Charlene slid the glass back so that he could hear her speak. “Wade! How are you doing, sweetheart?”

Wade took a pen and the sign-in clipboard from the edge of the window and wrote his name on every single line, following up with an “I love you Dr. House” at the bottom. “I’m just dandy, Charlene. How are you on this dark and stormy Saturday afternoon?”

The weather was neither dark nor stormy, but he couldn't resist the dramatic effect.

“Oh, well enough, Wade,” she replied, eyeing the clipboard. She didn’t stop him from doing what he was doing (drawing penises on the corners of the page). “Are you here to see Dr. Sharpe?”

“I am! You know I come pick up my illegal dope prescriptions on Saturdays,” Wade replied, leaning through the window. He set the clipboard in front of her. “Can you let McDreamy know I’m here? Tell her it’s the constipation again.”

“Oh, you poor thing,” Charlene replied, bustling out of the room like an overworked penguin. Wade loved her with every fiber of his being. “I’ll go let her know you’re here.”

Wade heard Charlene yell for Vivian. He loved bothering her while she was at work. In Wade’s expert opinion, Vivian had this problem where she constantly let herself get too stressed out about everything, and Wade felt like he was most appropriate stress-relief - mostly because no amount of maiming would kill him. She threw a scalpel at him one time that took out an eye, which he kept as a keepsake. Yet, for all his teasing and jokes, Wade did, in fact, truly care that she was working so hard that she was running herself into the ground, so he tended to visit her as frequently as he could without being overbearing or creepy.

Vivian poked her head in the receptionist’s office. “If your intestines aren’t actually completely blocked up, then wait in the waiting room.”

“I haven’t used the bathroom in a week, Viv. I’m dying.”

“I know you’re lying to me, Wade.”

Wade clapped his hand over his heart. “Me? Never? But, no, seriously, I came for my very illegal pre-signed dope prescriptions.”

Vivian rolled her eyes and went to open the hallway door so that Wade could come into the back of the clinic. She stood in the doorway and waited for him to come through. The door swung shut behind her.

“How many times do I have to ask you not to joke like that in the waiting room, Wade?” she asked, directing him into her office on the corner. “There’s been a real crackdown on stuff like that lately.”

Wade felt a little twinge of guilt. “Sorry, Viv.”

“It’s fine. Also, I’m glad to see you - didn’t want to tear you a new one without at least telling you that.” Vivian sat down on the edge of her desk. “I don’t want to rush you out of here, but why are you here? It’s, like, two p.m.? Isn’t that a little early for you?”

“Just thought I’d bring  _ this _ by…” Wade extracted a roll of cash from the pocket of his sweatpants and tossed it to her. “Paid in full, plus a little interest. Call it a late fee.”

The late fee, Wade figured, should be enough to pay off the work she did on Cable, plus buy the kids a little something nice. 

Vivian thumbed through the roll of cash and sighed with relief before peeling off a significant portion and handing it back to him. “Take that to the usual place and keep ten percent for yourself.”

“I’m not taking ten percent. I’ll give it to them.”

“Just take it, Wade. I’ve got to pay you if I want you to keep collecting for me and bringing me more business.”

Wade wasn’t going to stop doing anything that Vivian Sharpe wanted him to do, for one thing, and for another, he was just going to blow his ten percent on something stupid anyway. Better to let her kids have it.

He tucked the wad of cash back into his sweats. “I’ll get it to them. Sister Margaret’s tonight?”

“As usual.”

“Excellent!” Wade replied, saluting as he backed towards the door. “I’ll break a few arms while I’m there, maybe steal a kidney. You never know what I’ll send through your door!”

“Please don’t steal any kidneys. I’d like to leave by midnight and at least have a drink before I head home.”

“Fair enough. I’ll find you some riff-raff to coddle,” he said, inching the door shut. His lips were the only thing peeking past the threshold. “And I’m bringing your new friend! Bye!”

“Wade Wilson, stop trying to set me up with your weird friends!”

* * *

When the third patient that night came in with an infection in a wound that Vivian had already treated, she knew something was wrong. She had given antibiotics to all three men; the antibiotics should have been strong enough to fight off anything. And yet, Vivian had been busy washing oozing wounds and treating nasty fevers.

When she was certain that her third infection patient didn't need to go to a real hospital or at least wasn't going to keel over dead, she began rummaging through her medicine cabinet. It didn't look like anyone had been through it; the door was always locked and she was the only one who had a key. Besides, all of the pain medicine was accounted for; if someone had been fishing around in her medicine cabinet, they wouldn't be stealing antibiotics and replacing them, they’d be going for the narcotics.

She pulled down a bottle of neatly labeled penicillin. She poured the bottle out onto a tray to count the pills and found every single one accounted for. They looked normal: pink, with the manufacturer's stamp. Correct number and everything. She held the bottle under her nose to take a good whiff, and that's when she figured it out.

Real penicillin smells medicinal. Vivian couldn't smell anything. 

She dumped one of the pills out into her hand and touched the edge of the little tablet to her tongue. Sure enough, it wasn't penicillin.

“Pressed sugar,” she mumbled to herself, examining the bottle. 

Yeah, antibiotics are expensive, but this was just  _ stupid _ . No one switched out  _ antibiotics _ for sugar pills. Suppliers did that with real dope, painkillers, not penicillin. 

Unless the rest of her meds were sugar pills, too. She didn't really have the patience to test that theory. Instead, she scrubbed down the examination room, packed her bag, and walked out, slamming the door behind her.

It was well past midnight, and Vivian was definitely pissed. Patient after sick patient, all because some asshole up the chain of supply was a crook. Her patients might have been degenerates, but they were still  _ human _ . They were  _ her _ patients. They deserved to be treated just like everyone else did, even if it took them forever to pay her (and even if they didn’t pay her at all). She had an idea as to which link in the chain was crooked, she just had to test the theory.

That wasn’t going to stop her from having her one drink and going home, though. And besides, she needed the time to plan.

Vivian took a step out into the bar and pulled Weasel over to the side. “Update the dead pool board for the night. No one’s dead.”

“Damn it. I thought we had a winner when Titus went in.” Weasel set to work crossing names off the board and zeroing out bets.

“No, he’s fine. False alarm. It was indigestion, not a heart attack.”

“Did you clean up the blood?”

“Spotless, as usual.”

“Excellent! You gonna stick around for a while?” Weasel asked, tossing his eraser back into the tray attached to the chalkboard. He dusted off his hands, patting them together with vigor; yellowed chalk dust flew everywhere, settling on the front of his pants. “There’s at least ten people here who owe you a beer.”

“Yeah, well, there’s at least fifteen people here who owe me money.” Vivian surveyed the clientele littering the room. Sister Margaret’s stayed packed until the wee hours of the morning. She'd never seen it empty. “One beer. Imported - don’t care what it is. Put it on someone’s tab.”

“Gotcha.”

Vivian scoped out the room. She didn’t see Wade anywhere. He must have already gone home for the night or found a job to do. In any case, she wasn’t really looking for Wade.

Out of the corner of her eye, Vivian saw who she had been hoping to see. The dim light from the bar caught the gleaming silver military haircut of the guy Wade brought in to see her the night before. He sat at the corner of the bar closest to the door, scoping out the other bar patrons as if searching for someone. He probably  _ was  _ searching for someone, if he was taking jobs.

There was  _ something _ about Cable that drew her in. Vivian was rarely ever intimidated by anyone, but he was definitely an intimidating guy. Clean cut, but rough, like a good denim jacket that had been worn from being washed too often for too long. Not impressively tall, but still taller than her. Muscular, but still a bit stocky. Lots of scars. 

Overtly distracting.

Wade, for all his teasing and half-hearted matchmaking, hit the nail on the head with this one. Vivian didn't have the time nor the inclination to be distracted, but she had a job for him to do, so she was going to have to talk to him.

She was going to need a little backup for this.

Vivian waved Weasel back over. “Actually, let’s clear up another IOU from one of your lucrative patrons. Make it two beers, Weasel.”

Sometimes, Weasel was oddly perceptive. He caught the angle of her stare. “No… Cable? Really? You know you can just pay people for sex, right? Or ask me? There are easier options than Cable.”

“I’m not looking for sex, asshole. I need a job done.”

“Sure…” Weasel replied, eyeing Cable from across the bar. He looked back at Vivian and shrugged. “Offer still stands.”

Weasel was alright, but just… not her type.

“I respect your work here at the bar and value your friendship, but my showerhead ranks higher on my list of fuckability than you do, Weasel.”

“I know, and I accept that.”

Vivian held out her hand. “Beer, please.”

Weasel handed her two glasses. Against what she would probably consider her better judgment, she took both glasses and went to sit next to Wade’s buddy.

Vivian stood in front of him and offered him a glass as a makeshift alternative to a handshake. It was potentially the friendliest gesture one could give in a bar such as this. “You don’t look like you want company. Mind if I sit anyway?”

Cable shrugged and patted the seat next to him. “Take a seat, Doc.”

Vivian handed him the beer mug, which he accepted with a grunt that was probably as close to a thank you as she was going to get. “How’s your leg holding up?”

He twisted his leg towards her, not that she could see anything since his pants were covering it up. “Much better. It’s healing up well.”

“Regeneration factor?”

He seemed startled by the question and didn’t answer. Vivian probably wouldn't have answered either if she didn't know the person asking.

“Don’t worry, you’re in similar company,” Vivian said, sipping on her beer. “I’m a mutant, too. Besides, you look like you could tear someone’s liver out with your pinkie finger. No one is going to bother you here.”

He coughed, hiding his face behind a gloved hand. “Uh, yeah, a little bit of a regeneration factor. Limited, but helpful.”

Vivian finished her beer and handed the glass mug back to Weasel. She turned back to Cable, who finished draining his own glass. She found herself following the line of his throat, admiring the way his Adam’s apple bobbed before she mentally shook herself. Not the time to get distracted, not the person to get distracted by.

“I’ve got a job for you,” she said, leaning in close to him. She could see the stubble on the line of his jaw, and again, shook herself for getting distracted. She really needed some alone time. “If you’re interested.”

He leaned in as well. As much as she liked that he leaned in close to her, she kind of wished he hadn't. “What do you need done?”

“Enforcement,” Vivian replied. “This one requires a little more finesse than Wade is used to using. You look like you can handle finesse.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Who needs to be finessed?”

“A medical supplier who likes to switch out my patients’ antibiotics with placebos. I’m rather pissed.”

“I’ll have it taken care of by tomorrow night.”

“I’ll extend your deadline because I want you to make him sweat a little.”

“Next Friday, then?”

“Perfect. I’ll be here so you can pick up your payment,” Vivian replied. She beckoned Weasel over to her again. “Let me get you a card.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is Gloria by Van Morrison.
> 
> Enough exposition - things are about to get real fun (and real long).


	3. I've Walked for Miles, My Feet are Hurting (Beast of Burden)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there are children.

Mondays suck. The to-do list for the day is always too long, there’s always stuff left over from the weekend, and then there’s the whole week ahead. That's when you've got to go to all of your appointments, deal with life in general. Mondays were just too much.

This Monday, though, was Vivian’s day off. There was work to be done, but not the kind of work where she had to go into the office and hold down small children or bother grown men about taking their medicine properly.

Today, Vivian got to see her kids.

Vivian was in the middle of getting dressed when her doorbell rang. She tumbled out into the hall, tugging her dress down over her head and hopping on one foot to put her shoes on. There was no chance of anything more than a relatively professional dress, ponytail, and a spirited attempt at makeup. She couldn’t remember the last time she made an effort to dress up, but at least the dress was business-y.

The doorbell rang again. When she opened the door, Wade stood on the other side, dressed in the Deadpool suit. Looks like someone else had business to take care of today.

Wade whistled when he saw her. “Look at you! I thought the white coat just came included with the special features! What are you up to today?”

“Parent-teacher conference for Shelly at the middle school today,” Vivian replied, scraping her hair up into a fussy ponytail.

“But I thought you couldn’t - ”

“The ex-husband cannot be in attendance and apparently it’s urgent, so I get to go handle it. Restraining order is against him, not my babies.”

Wade held onto her shoulder so that Vivian could balance long enough to get her other shoe on. “So this is the first time in how long?”

“About a year.”

“Well, I’m sure it’ll be a fun conference. Tell your kids to stop setting off stink bombs or eating Tide pods or whatever it is that kids do for fun these days.”

Vivian was pretty sure that kids didn’t actually do any of those things for fun.

She snorted. “I’m hoping I can take them out for dinner afterward.”

Wade hopped on the couch and stretched out, watching Vivian attempt to finish getting dressed in a timely fashion. “You know where you should go after dinner?”

“Not Sister Margaret’s. It’s my night off.”

He hummed. “I was thinking more about Xavier’s mansion.”

Vivian stopped long enough to stare at him. “Absolutely not.”

“Oh, come on, Colossus wants to talk to you!”

“Yeah, I know,” she replied. “Captain Boy Scout has been trying to sit me down and talk to me about being the school nurse for years. Besides, when did you start rolling out the welcome wagon for the X-Men?”

Wade huffed. “Gimme a break! It’s part of training!”

“What, recruitment?”

“If you come, I don’t have to wear the yellow crop top!”

“Good thing you look good in yellow, because I’m not setting foot in that place,” Vivian replied, grabbing her keys. “Now, let me get out of here, I don’t want to be late.”

Wade opened the door for her, slamming it behind them. “Have fun! Tell the babies that Uncle Wade says hi!”

“They don’t call you Uncle Wade!”

* * *

Vivian stood in the school lobby, arms crossed, tapping her foot. She’d been waiting for a solid thirty minutes for Jack to bring the kids, but neither Shelly nor Benji were anywhere in sight. She couldn’t just find the teacher’s room on her own and take care of the problem. She’d never been inside of the middle school, so she didn’t know the whereabouts of the teacher’s classroom. 

“Mama!”

A tiny, high-pitched voice preceded the appearance of a tiny blonde girl, like the sound of a bird chirping. Shelly ran towards her, all hundred pounds of middle school girl barreling towards Vivian like a bullet. Benji jogged along behind her, wearing the same grimace that Vivian always gave to Wade when he was overly enthusiastic about something.

She caught Shelly in her arms and gave Benji one of those side-arm hugs teenage boys give when they think they’re too old to hug their moms.

Shelly didn’t stop long enough for greetings. She wouldn’t let go of Vivian’s hand as she pulled her down the hallway. “Lets go get this over with.”

“Hold on, honey, what’s your teacher’s name?”

“Mr. Johnson. He’s kind of a twerp.”

“Why’s he a twerp?”

Benji rolled his eyes. “Shouldn’t you be telling her not to call people twerps?”

“Probably, but I’m your mom and you should be able to express your feelings in a safe, understanding environment. If your sister says the man’s a twerp, he’s a twerp, Benji,” Vivian said. “Why’s he a twerp, Shelly?”

“Well, he called this conference and I don’t think it’s that big of a deal.”

“I don’t even know what happened, Shel Dorado. Your dad didn’t exactly clue me in on that.”

“Dad didn’t even read the letter that got sent home with me?”

“No, Dad just didn’t give  _ me _ the letter to read. We’re not really allowed to talk, remember?”

“Oh, yeah… Well, I guess Mr. Johnson can tell you,” Shelly said, coming to halt. “This is his room.”

Vivian walked in, Shelly and Benji trailing behind her. The room was the same stringent, basic setup as every other middle school classroom in America, purposefully bland and devoid of hope or fun. Desks were arranged in clinical rows. The teacher’s desk was arranged carefully in the front corner with two chairs across from the teacher’s computer chair.

Benji sat at a desk on the front row while Shelly parked herself in one of the chairs next to the teacher’s desk. 

Mr. Johnson stood up and shook Vivian’s hand. “I was under the impression that I would be dealing with Mr. Thorn. We’ve had correspondence about Shelly’s behavior before.”

Vivian sat down in the chair next to Shelly’s. “Well, Mr. Thorn is presently unavailable, as he had something he deemed more important to take care of today. You’ll be dealing with me instead, so why don’t you enlighten me as to Shelly’s behavior.”

The teacher sat down in his chair and scooted it in close to the desk.“She’s been picking a lot of fights lately. I’m just curious as to whether this relating to something that’s happening at home?”

“I wouldn’t know what happens at home, being that Mr. Thorn and I are divorced.”

Mr. Johnson shrugged. “It could be your absence in the home that’s causing this…”

“Well, Mr. Johnson, why don’t you explain to Mr. Thorn that my absence in my children’s life is negatively impacting them so that he’ll authorize visitation,” Vivian replied, liking the teacher less and less with every passing minute. “This, I assume, would only be possible in the event you or the nearest other available pig grows wings and takes flight.”

“Ms. Sharpe-”

“Dr. Sharpe.”

“Dr. Sharpe, I meant no disrespect to you. I wasn’t insinuating anything.”

Yeah, right.

Vivian didn’t have a lot of patience to begin with, but he was testing what little she had. “Why don’t we ask Shelly why she’s acting out? It may be that you’re not addressing her needs as a student. Shelly, what’s going on?”

Shelly looked like she’d rather be anywhere else in the world at that very moment. “Tom and John made it a game to pull every girls’ hair, snap bra straps, pull down our pants. I’ve been telling Mr. Johnson that for months.”

There is a special kind of fury only felt by mothers of girls, because mothers of girls know exactly what kind of pain they’re going through.

“Is this true, Mr. Johnson?”

“She’s the only student who’s complained about this…”

If she didn’t have to set a good example for her kids, Vivian would have definitely punched him by now. “So, what? The testimony of one little girl isn’t enough to make you address this situation?”

“That’s not what I was saying…”

“No, you’re saying that these little boys are touching Shelly and you’re not doing anything about it.”

“She punched Tom Wells in the face and broke his nose.”

“Good,” Vivian snapped. “She did something about it when you wouldn’t. The only thing you’re doing is teaching my child that she won’t be taken seriously.”

“Dr. Sharpe, I have reprimanded them.”

“You gave those boys a slap on the wrist, but you pulled me and both of my children away from our lives to have a conversation about my daughter defending herself?”

“That wasn’t the intention.”

“I know what your intention was, Mr. Johnson,” she said. “I’m a thirty-four year old woman with a medical doctorate. I know exactly what she’s going through and how you’re responding to it because I’ve been dealing with the same thing for thirty-four years myself.”

“Well, if you’re not going to have a conversation with me, Dr. Sharpe, perhaps you should leave.”

“Oh, I think this was a great conversation, Mr. Johnson. And don’t worry, I’ll be pulling her from your class.”

“You can’t do that.”

“Oh, I can’t? Watch me.” She motioned for Shelly and Benji to follow her. “Come on, guys.”

Vivian held open the door so that the kids could walk ahead of her. She slammed the door behind her and stalked down to the lobby to take care of this problem. When you found the business office door, she pulled open the door and looked for the administrative assistant.

She found Lucy, the administrative assistant, waiting for her in her office. “I need you to take care of something for me.”

Lucy looked up at her over the rim over her glasses. “Switch Shelly to a different class? Way ahead of you.”

“How’d you know?”

“I just needed consent from you or Jack to get her out of that class,” Lucy replied, already typing away at her keyboard. “It’s like the more she fights back, the bigger the target on her head.”

“Well, get her off the firing range. She’s got a target on her head because that teacher isn’t doing anything about it.”

Lucy nodded. “I’ll get it taken care of, Viv.”

“Thank you, Lucy. Can you send me updates on things?”

“I will.”

“Thanks again. I’ll see you later.”

Vivian left the office decidedly calmer than she expected to. She motioned for Shelly and Benji to follow her out. The kids followed Vivian out to her car.

Shelly grabbed Vivian’s hand and swung it as they walked. “Can you come to all the teacher conferences from now on?”

Vivian pulled Benji into a one-arm hug as she walked, despite the fact that he looked like he was going to die of embarrassment. “Of course I can. I didn’t even know all of this was going on or I would have been crawling his ass long before now.”

“Language, mom,” Benji said. She was vividly reminded of a smaller, less shiny Colossus as that moment.

“Sorry, honey.”

Vivian climbed into her car and waited for the two of them to climb in behind her. They both slid into the backseat, shoving each other for elbow space. She started the car, put it into gear, and sped off towards the exit.

“Hey, mama?” Benji asked. Vivian’s heart melted a little bit. She hadn’t heard Benji call her that in  _ years _ . “Can you get me put in a different English class? She gives pop quizzes.”

“No, Benji. Pop quizzes are good for you,” Vivian replied, searching absently for the street she needed to turn onto. “What do you two want for dinner?”

“Pizza,” they said in unison.

Vivian sighed. “How many times have you had pizza this week?”

“Three.”

“Wouldn’t you rather have something healthier?”

“No.”

“What does your father feed you? Jeeze. Pizza it is, I guess.”

* * *

Vivian could see why Wade harassed her about getting sleep. If she slumped any lower in her chair she was going to hit the (very bloody) floor.

It was a slow Friday night, which was rare. Friday nights usually meant a steady flow of wounds to stitch up. Thank goodness she’d only had a couple of patients, though. There was no way she would have been able to deal with the Friday night load in her current state of overwhelming exhaustion. Of course, even though it was a slow night, she’d had two difficult patients. Both of them bled  _ everywhere _ (as is the nature of stab wounds), which only exacerbated her exhaustion. She got both of them stable and stitched up, though.

The time was drawing close to two a.m. She was only sticking around so that she could pay Cable, whenever he decided to show up. Cable didn’t seem like the kind of guy who would skip out on a payment, so Vivian was a little worried that he might have forgotten his deadline, or worse - that he might have had some trouble with his mark.

The mark in this instance was the man Vivian bought all of her medical supplies from. He never stiffed her on numerical counts, but she had long suspected that he was buying the lowest quality items and pocketing the different. Distasteful, unethical - not technically illegal, but none of these practices - his or her own - were legal anyway, so she could do something about his poor business practices. She suspected that it was his doing that all of her supplies had been substituted out and replaced. She wasn’t exactly surprised that he did it - more annoyed than anything. That was fine. She had learned over the years that one must fight back in order to accomplish anything.

She knew how to fight all too well.

Really, she shouldn’t have been worried that Cable forgot his deadline, or failed to meet it. She realized that when the medical room door was thrown open, and in stepped Cable and the mark.

Cable dragged the guy in by his ear and shoved him towards Vivian. “Jimmy here’s got something to say to you, Dr. Sharpe.”

Vivian bit her lip to keep from snorting. She was pretty sure she’d never seen a grown man’s ear twisted like a bad schoolboy’s by another fully grown man. “What on Earth is going on here?”

Cable flicked the man’s ear. There was a little blood. “What do you say, asshole?”

“I’m sorry, Dr. Sharpe!” Jimmy said, grimacing when Cable twisted his ear again. “I’m sorry I switched out your supplies!”

“What else did you want to tell her?”

Jimmy flinched, shying away from Cable as far as he could without running the risk of being flicked on the ear again. “I’ll get you what you paid for, no charge!”

“And?”

“And I’ll buy the placebos back!”

“ _ And? _ ”

“And I won’t do it again, I swear!”

Cable slapped him on the back of the head, pushing him towards her. “Now give her the money.”

Jimmy tossed Vivian a hefty roll of cash, which she caught easily. She didn’t bother to count it. Cable would have made sure it was the correct amount.

Cable grabbed Jimmy by the back of his shirt and pulled him towards the door. “Get out of here, and make sure I don’t have to come after you again.”

Jimmy scurried out of the bar, spurred on by bar patrons throwing beer bottles at him. They’d all heard that he’d stiffed their doctor (thanks to Weasel’s loose tongue), and they weren’t happy about it. Who else was going to remove their stitches without pulling and not charge them thousands of dollars like real hospitals do? 

Vivian stuck her head out the door to watch him run off, chuckling when she caught sight of the wet spot on Jimmy’s jeans. To be fair, peeing himself was the appropriate response.

Vivian shut the door behind her. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a merc make a mark apologize to me.”

Cable shrugged. “Yeah, well, he was a scumbag. Needed to learn a little humility.”

Vivian couldn’t disagree with that. Most of the people she associated with were scumbags - some more so than others. And yet, some of them weren’t so bad.

Vivian supposed she should pay him for a job well done. She peeled off a section of the roll of cash. “This is what I owe you. Count behind me and make sure it’s right.”

He waved her off. “Keep it.”

What was it with Wade and his weird friends not letting her pay them?

Vivian sighed. “Between you and Wade, I swear… I’ll get a bad reputation if people keep doing work for me for free.”

“I didn’t do it for free,” Cable said, staring at her with those piercing eyes. “You stitched me up the other night. Damn good job, too. The scar’s not even that bad.”

Vivian shook her head. “Wade took care of your bill last week. Next excuse?”

He huffed. “Well, I just…”

Cable didn’t give her an answer, just shuffled from one foot to the other, looking just past her. Vivian suspected that Cable had several reasons for not taking payment from her. Maybe he had some kind of sense of loyalty for Wade, maybe he had some feeling of duty towards her. Damn mercenaries never could talk about their feelings. Whatever the reason, she knew she was going to have to bother him to take her money in the future.

Perhaps in her determination to read his emotions, Vivian stared Cable down too hard. Everything about him was just… entrancing. A little terrifying. Exhilarating. He caught her stare and didn’t look away.

Out of the corner of her eye, Vivian caught blood dripping from his ungloved hand. 

“Give me your hand.”

Cable didn’t ask why, he just held out his hand (albeit warily). His knuckles were split and scraped, like he’d tried to swing on someone and hit a wall instead, probably done while dragging Jimmy into her medical room. Vivian took his hand between her own and did her best to look away from his face. 

She held his hand for a full minute and let the cold energy emanating from her hands wrap around his. He jumped when his hand got cold, but didn’t pull away. 

When she released his hand, he pulled away, hand completely healed. He inspected the fresh pink flesh covering his knuckles. “You’re a healer?”

“Only a little bit. It’s just a secondary ability.”

“Why don’t you use it more often? Seems like it would save some time instead of poking and stabbing all these people.”

“I’m kind of stretching to do it now, honestly. I have the ability to reject events - trees falling over, pianos falling out of windows. It doesn’t work with organic material, for the most part.”

“So how are you doing it now?”

Vivian shrugged. “I don't know. Sometimes it just works. Usually, I have to be pretty stressed, or… really need it to work.”

“Well, I know you’re pretty stressed…”

Ah. So that’s why he wouldn’t accept his payment. She hadn’t pegged Cable for a sentimental type, but that just added a new layer to his otherwise gruff and stoic facade. A shame; it made it that much harder for Vivian  _ not _ to like him.

Vivian quirked an eyebrow. “Alright, what’s Wade told you?”

Cable grimaced. He must have realized that he’d hit a nerve. “Enough.”

“Explain.”

He explained in that sort of way that Vivian could only describe as infuriatingly stoic. She was beginning to think that this was his own special brand of macho. “Two jobs, two kids, and you never sleep.”

“That it?”

“Isn’t that enough?”

So Wade must have left it at that. Very few people were privy to the full situation. He might have loose lips sometimes, but Wade was unfailingly loyal. 

Good boy, Wade. 

“And that’s why you won’t let me pay you.”

Cable looked like a man who’d been cornered. Which, he had been. “I didn’t really have to do much. Not like ol’ Jimmy was was hard to bring in or anything. You’ve got other things to worry about that paying me for that.”

Vivian was accustomed to fighting for every good thing in her life. Perhaps she was finally being given something good for once. 

“You have a good heart for a mercenary,” she said, folding her arms across her chest. “Wade keeps good friends.” 

He gave her the tiniest of smiles - so small that she would have missed it had she not been physically unable to look away from his face. “If you need me to do anything else…”

“You’re first on the list, Cable. Thank you.”

Vivian had met Cable three times now, and in those three times, she’d figured out pretty quickly that she was going to have a tough time keeping her head on straight where he was concerned. She’d been denying herself the prospect of dating or even  _ feeling _ for so long; denying the desire for emotional or physical care. She had an undeniable attraction to Cable; he was gruff, stoic,  _ intense _ . It wouldn’t be so bad if he was attracted to her, too… 

Vivian had never made a single decision that wasn’t calculated and planned down to the minute. She’d learned the hard way that missteps could be fatal, and she couldn’t afford to lose anything else. 

And yet, as Cable turned to leave, Vivian made one of the most impulsive decisions she’d ever made in her entire life. 

Vivian called his name and stopped him. “Can I buy you a beer?”

“No…”

Vivian couldn’t pretend that didn’t sting a little bit.

“… but you can let me buy you one.”

He grinned. Not the tiny half-grin from a minute ago, but a real smile. And just like that, Vivian knew she wouldn’t be able to guard her heart from this one, not if he wanted it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is Beast of Burden by The Rolling Stones.


	4. It Took a Rumor to Make Me Wonder (Something to Talk About)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is discussion.

Wade always had a bad habit of showing up at the most inopportune times. He would ring the doorbell (and  _ keep ringing it _ ) right before Vivian had to leave for work, right before bed, in the middle of dinner. He barged in when she was in the shower, using the bathroom, literally whenever he could get in. Hell, he’d probably interrupt in the middle of a date, if she ever went out on a date. 

His latest visitation time choice was eight a.m., which Vivian wasn’t exactly happy about. She wasn’t sure if his unusual early streak had anything to do with him living at Xavier’s mansion, but she was getting  _ way _ too used to seeing him on her doorstep at the break of dawn.

At this point, she might as well just give him a key to her apartment.

Wade wasn’t exactly a morning person, either. He wasn’t necessarily  _ grumpy _ when he showed up, but he could definitely use a cup of coffee (or several). He always showed up shuffling his feet, bedraggled in his drug-dealer-esque getup of faded gray sweatpants and worn black hoodie. He kept his hood up when he was walking the streets because he didn't like for people to stare. 

Today was no different.  Honestly, she’d seen him looking worse. In fact, he looked pretty good for eight a.m. on a Friday as compared to how he looked every other morning.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Vivian said as she closed the door behind him. As an early bird herself, teasing Wade was the highlight of her morning.

Wade didn’t respond, just flopped down on her couch and stretched out, making himself totally comfortable. 

Vivian walked back into her bedroom and started dressing herself for the day. It was - hopefully - an extra special day: court day. She pulled on her nice professional suit (the one she wore to talks and panels) and fished her heels out of the back of her closet. She even put on earrings, something that she didn’t do unless absolutely had to do so (she couldn't wear jewelry to the clinic because kids were grabby).

She stepped back out into the front room with Wade, spreading her arms. “Alright, ego boost me, Wilson.”

Wade sat up and whistled appreciatively. “Look at you, all dressed up again! Looking snazzy, Dr. House! What’s going on today? Big date with Daddy Kink finally?”

“Not quite,” Vivian said, rolling her eyes. “Court notice. I’ve been summoned for a modification to my visitation rights. Potential modification, that is.”

Today was the day for the yearly review of parental visitation. Vivian would sit on her side of the room with her lawyer, Jack would sit on the other side with his. They weren’t allowed to talk to each other, so Vivian would glare while Jack avoided looking at her. Shelly and Benji would not be in attendance because it was a school day.

Wade clapped. “My girl! Might get the kiddos on the weekends now?”

Vivian slid into her heels and flopped down on the couch next to Wade. “Unlikely, but that’s the best-case scenario. I think this judge might be really special, so I might have a chance...”

The last judge she'd dealt with - the only one who would oversee child support court - finally retired. The replacement judge was rumored to be sympathetic to mutants’ parental rights, so she was hopeful that she might finally get visitation.  _ Sympathetic _ could mean anything, though. She may get full visitation rights, or she may get good active listening skills from the judge and a door in the face anyway. 

“Well, best of luck to you!” Wade said, stretching out across her lap. She wiggled into a better sitting position so that her suit wouldn’t get wrinkled. “Uncle Wade can’t wait to meet the niece and nephew in person finally!”

That would certainly be a disaster, the likes of which Vivian could only imagine. Shelly would love him. Benji would glare at him. Destruction would be imminent.

“It would be so great to be able to stay here with them on weekends,” Vivian opined. She leaned her head back against the couch, suddenly extremely tired. “Wade, I really need for this to go well.”

She did, badly. Over the last five years, she’d only seen Shelly and Benji a handful of times. In fact, she could count on both hands the number of times she’d seen them.

Vivian was starting to feel the years of stress settling into her bones. It seemed like she found a new gray hair every morning, which was totally unfair. It's not like she was  _ old _ . But yeah, Wade always did tease her that she'd go gray early if she didn't find a way to relieve some of the stress. Not that he’d ever know that he was right - that’s why hair dye exists.

“I know, Viv,” Wade replied, yawning. “And if it goes well, I won’t have to take rolls of money to a middle school. I get funny looks every time I walk in…”

“Yeah, but Lucy at the front desk loves you,” Vivian said. Wade’s yawn was contagious, and she kind of wanted to just crawl back into bed. “And you get funny looks because you dress like a serial killer every time you go there.”

“True.”

Vivian ignored the weariness creeping over her. Contrary to popular belief, she was always glad to see Wade because he helped relieve some of the stress. He was literal comic relief.

Vivian checked her watch. She really needed to get out the door, but she supposed a few more minutes of relaxation wouldn’t hurt. “So why are here? Do you need me to do something? Did I forget to pay you?”

Wade snorted, stretching. His joints popped. “Oh, no, I just heard about your little incident with Cable. _Finally_.”

It had been a few weeks since then already. Vivian hadn’t told him because, frankly, she knew Wade would never let it rest. She could feel the teasing coming, ready to burst out of his chest like a nasty parasite from that alien movie.

“Oh.  _ That _ .”

“Yeah,  _ that _ . He hauled a guy into a bar to make him apologize to you? And then bought you a drink?” If Wade had eyebrows, they’d be wiggling. “I think our little grumpypants has a  _ crush _ on you.”

“A  _ crush _ ? What are you, a teenager?” Vivian  _ did  _ have a crush and she was pretty sure that Cable did too, but she wasn't going to give Wade the satisfaction of hearing her say it just yet. “I’m thirty-four and he’s  _ definitely _ older than me. There’s got to be a more age-appropriate term.”

“Besotted? Enamored.  _ Horny? _ ”

“How about  _ doing his job _ , Wade? He just did what I asked him to do.”

“Oh, yeah, he went far and beyond the call of duty for you.” Wade crawled out of her lap and sat up, but he just went right back to leaning on her shoulder. “Look, if I know Cable, and  _ I know Cable _ , he’s not going to drag a guy into a bar, make him apologize, and then  _ not accept payment _ .”

Vivian had already figured that out.

“Come on, he’s just doing what I asked. He’s like you - he looks like a hardass, but he’s a marshmallow on the inside.”

“A marshmallow who wants to play doctor with you, McSteamy,” he replied. “And I think you want to do a little examination of your own.”

“I'm not going to be examining anyone who isn't bleeding.”

“Methinks the lady doth protest too much,” Wade said. “What you had was the degenerate’s version of a date. Weasel was there. He analyzed the situation for me.”

“Weasel is always there, and he’s an unreliable witness.”

“I can’t refute that.”

“I know you can't. Now get off of me. I don’t want to be late for court.”

“Mama’s getting the kiddos back!” Wade exclaimed, stretching back out on the couch. “Can I take a nap here?”

“Yes. Don't break anything. Again.”

* * *

Cable’s day had been fantastic so far. Quiet, relaxed. All the things that Xavier’s mansion usually never achieved.

Wade had been mysteriously quiet. In fact, Wade had been so quiet that Cable actually started to wonder where he’d gone for the day. Not that Cable was ever going to complain about the silence. It was a rare day that he didn’t have a job to do and an even rarer day when Wade left him alone for long stretches of time. 

The problem was, Cable didn’t really know how to relax, especially if he was alone. He’d never been one to lay around in bed all day, never one to just sit down and read a book. He’d messed around and cleaned his equipment, gone downstairs to workout, cooked lunch for himself. He received a lot of funny looks every time he went downstairs; clearly he needed to make an appearance more often if this many people were staring whenever he showed up.

Despite how great the relaxation was, he finally figured out (shortly after lunch) that he was fucking bored. He couldn’t imagine how maladaptive it must be to be bored when he wasn’t being shot at. Nevertheless, the boredom finally sank in. 

It was still too early in the day to head to Sister Margaret's and try to drum up some business. The bar had a pretty steady circulation of regulars at all hours of the day, but the paying clients didn’t show up until late at night. Anyone who was there at lunch was an alcoholic or had just found themselves in the wrong place.

Cable was starting to wish that it was time to head over there already anyway. He thought about maybe going on over there to see if any paying stragglers were there, but he eventually decided against it. If no one was there, he’d have to talk to Weasel. He really didn’t want to talk to Weasel.

Too bad Vivian didn’t work this early in the day; Cable would head over there if she did. He’d finally found someone in Wade’s bubble of weirdos that he could relate to - someone he could actually talk to without rolling his eyes or making a snide comment.

Cable liked Vivian a lot. Too much, maybe. It scared him a little bit to think that maybe he’d grown accustomed to this time period finally - that he could maybe, sort of, kind of, think about a woman other than his wife. It had been a year already since he’d gotten stuck here, after all. He wasn’t exactly the type of guy to move on from things, but even he could agree that wounds do eventually heal.

He’d had a lot of wounds, and he had a lot of scars to prove it.

In any case, it made things easier to know that she liked him, too. She hadn’t said it in words exactly, but he wasn’t an idiot. He knew how to read people, and Vivian was pretty easy to read. She was definitely reluctant to admit to any mutual attraction, even more so than him, but that gave him a little bit of comfort oddly enough. Her nervousness was endearing.

It was Friday night, so Vivian would come in and do her shift, then come have a beer with him. He enjoyed the hour or so of camaraderie, of just light teasing back and forth. She would swear up and down that it wasn’t a date and so would he. A beer at Sister Margaret’s was not the kind of date he’d take a woman like that on (or any woman, as a matter of fact); she deserved better than that.

Yeah, Cable enjoyed the Friday night beer. And if he could find something to alleviate the quiet, relaxing boredom until then, he’d be right as rain.

* * *

“And that’s what happened with the last guy,” Vivian said, waving her empty beer bottle. “It took thirty-two stitches to get him under control, and then  _ poof _ , the other guy shows up and slits his throat wide open.”

Vivian was done for the night. She’d been at Sister Margaret’s all day, ever since she left court. It was just past midnight on Friday, which was usually her late night, but she’s been feeling pretty charitable when she left the courthouse and came into the bar for the entire day. Weasel was ecstatic, of course. Her presence and availability to treat people meant that the already-packed hub of degenerates was at maximum capacity the entire day.

“So if I walk in the med room, there’s going to be blood splatters everywhere?” Cable asked, draining the rest of his glass. He was just about finished for the night as well.

Cable had been at the bar for a couple of hours, but it was kind of a slow Friday as far as business was concerned. He’d been paid by a couple of people (that Vivian had seen), but so far, no black cards had come a-callin’. 

“Looks like a bad horror movie in there,” Vivian replied, handing her bottle to Weasel. “I cleaned up the floor but the walls are going to need some extra attention.”

Weasel took the bottle wordlessly; he just looked over at Wade without comment. Vivian noticed his lack of snark and the mutual  _ look _ , as well as the latent development on his tongue of what she was sure would be an asshole comment. She glared at him wordlessly, and he bit back whatever remark was brewing on his tongue.

Vivian and Cable had been sitting at the bar, flanked by Wade and Weasel, for about an hour. They’d each had a beer, but they’d been talking for so long that it had taken a while to finish their respective drinks.

“Damn, darlin’,” Cable said, laughing. “You sure you don’t want me to hang out back there so hitmen don’t take out their marks while you’re trying to stitch them up?”

“Oh, I’ll be fine. Hitmen don’t come after me,” Vivian said. “In fact, the guy paid me afterward because he felt bad that he got blood everywhere.”

“How polite…” Weasel said. It was the first comment that he’d felt safe to say as of yet, mostly because he was a little perturbed that someone made a mess in his backroom.

“He felt that I deserved a little cash in return for the arterial spray.”

“That you do,” Cable replied, handing Weasel his own glass. 

Behind him, Wade smirked; he looked just about as self-satisfied as a cat wallowing in catnip. Vivian glared at him, daring him gloat.

At that moment, one of the bar patrons walked up and handed Cable a black card - the first one of the night. He looked down at it, strangely unenthusiastic for such a lucrative job. Vivian knew the guy putting out the word; he was about as rich as it got and even more crooked. She suspected that Cable found some distaste in some of the jobs he was asked to do.

“Alright, let me go take care of this,” Cable said, slipping the card into his front jacket pocket. “See you next time?”

Vivian nodded. “Of course.”

She definitely wasn't ashamed to say that she watched him walk out of Sister Margaret's, gaze fixed on his retreating back. 

Yeah, the end-of-shift beer had become a bit of a ritual between the two of them over the past few weeks. Vivian would close up for the night, and if Cable was still there, she’d cash in on a couple of IOU’s and sit down with him to talk about the day. It was nice to just… be friends. Nice to talk to someone who seemed a little bit lonely too, even if he didn’t let on that he was lonely in any way. They’d talk for an hour or two then part ways for the night, either because Cable had a job to do or Vivian was close to falling asleep on her barstool.

Wade and Weasel, of course, thought the whole situation was just hysterical. 

“So, like, are these  _ dates _ ?” Weasel asked, leaning against the bar. “Because we’ll leave you two alone for the night.”

“No, you won’t, and it’s literally just a beer.”

“Because, I mean, he walks you out if you leave at the same time,” Weasel poured up another couple of beers and handed them off to Vivian and Wade. “Are you making out in your car? Fucking in the backroom when you don’t have patients? What’s going on here?”

Maybe in her dreams, not that she would admit it. Not so much in real life.

“That’s a negative on the making out and fucking. I’m having a beer with a friend,” Vivian replied, accepting her second drink. 

Weasel snorted. “While making googly eyes at him the whole time.”

“Look, if I want to make googly eyes at the hot, scary guy, I have a right to do that. I haven’t even been on a date since I got divorced.”

“I think you wanna do more than make googly eyes at him.”

Wade had been strangely silent up to that point. He slapped the tabletop and leaned over Vivian’s shoulder. “Well, I fully encourage it! You deserve some good dick, and it’ll get him out of my hair for a while!”

“You don’t have hair, Wade,” Weasel said.

“You should make a move,” Wade continued, ignoring Weasel’s comment. “When’s the last time you’ve gotten any or had someone take care of you for once?”

“Not your business, and I don’t have time anyway. Two jobs, remember? My showerhead is my boyfriend right now. I bought one of those fancy jet-pulse ones and I’m perfectly satisfied.”

“I think the old man could fix that.”

“Who says he’s even interested?” Vivian asked, shrugging. “He might just think I’m good for business, which I am.”

Indeed. Cable seemed to get more jobs when she was sitting next to him, usually because whoever was bringing him a black card needed her to look at some oozing wounds.

“Ha! Daddy Kink was making googly eyes back at you, in his own special way.”

“Which means he was staring at you like he was thinking of drowning himself in the toilet to get your attention,” Weasel explained.

“This is why I don’t talk to you two about my intentional lack of a love life.”

“Why are you so back and forth with this anyway?” Weasel asked. “You like the guy - can’t imagine why - and I’m pretty sure he likes you. Just smoosh your faces together and make some babies already.”

“When do I have time to give a partner my full attention? I’m here, or I’m at the clinic.” Vivian said. “This is convenient because Cable is also always here.”

"Who said he had to be your partner? Just fuck him," Weasel replied, wiping out a beer glass he'd just washed. His advice was always so helpful.

"That's usually what partner refers to, Weasel."

“Hey, opportunity’s there. You’ve already made a step in the right direction.”

“Stop trying to be inspirational, please. I’m trying to figure my life out.”

Wade took that moment to interject. “Well, if we’re on the topic of figuring your life out, you know who’s great at helping with that?”

“Don’t say Coloss-”

“Colossus!”

Vivian massaged her temples. “Fuck, Wade, I already said no.”

“Come on, give him a chance!” Wade groused, leaning all over her shoulder. “I really want to stop wearing the trainee crop top!”

“No,” Vivian huffed. “He’s going to lecture me for two hours about the benefits of returning to the X-Men, and then lecture me about how my night job isn’t safe, and  _ then _ he’s going to ask me to be the school nurse, which I won’t do because they won’t pay me.”

“Just do what I do and stare at him until he stops talking!”

“My brain doesn’t work like that.”

Wade laughed knowingly. “Don’t worry, once he starts lecturing, it’s like a light bulb just goes off.”

Vivian, of course, knew that she was going to give in, finally. Wade would never give up and stop asking. “Alright, fine, I have Monday off from the clinic. I’ll be there by lunch.”

“You’re my favorite!”

“You owe me, Wade.”

He made that awkward winking face that he’d been known to make on occasion. “Ah, you'll thank me after Cable gives you the good-good.”

“Not everything is about sex. I like to actually talk to him.”

“Yeah, well, the talking is better after the sex.”

“I’m done discussing this with you, Cupid.”

Wade gestured to Weasel for another round of drinks. “Topic switch, then. How did your court date go?”

It wasn’t the worst court date she’d ever experienced. This time, Jack didn’t even say a word to his lawyer when the judge handed down the decision. He just avoided Vivian’s eye with every fiber of his being, which Vivian was totally fine with. She needed to keep her temper in check - at least in front of the judge. That was easier to do if Jack wouldn’t look at her.

“I got Christmas.”

Wade grimaced. “One holiday?”

“Hey, small victories,” Vivian said as she accepted her third drink from Weasel. “Next time, I’m asking for all holidays.”

Wade offered up his glass for a toast. “Well, here’s to small victories, then!”

Vivian touched her glass to his. “Or any victory at all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is Something to Talk About by Bonnie Raitt.


	5. Friday Comes and Calls Your Bluff (Morning Glory Wine)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ouch.

Xavier’s Mansion was a lot further out past the city limits than Vivian remembered. Like, a  _ long  _ car ride away. The roads weren’t great, there were all these ropey winding hills - it was just a bad scene altogether. She didn’t do well on long car rides anyway. Too much motion, too many bumps - especially all the way out here.

Thankfully, she made it relatively intact (with the exception of her nerves). She pulled up to the front of the mansion in her tiny black car, an ant sitting next to an immobile boot. The mansion was a huge structure, all brick and stone. It had been so long since she’d seen it last that she’d almost forgotten that it was so gargantuan. And it probably still just as musty and cavernous on the inside as it always had been. She hesitated to turn the car off and get out; in fact, she briefly considered just turning around and leaving.

Nevertheless, she’d driven all the way out here to the boonies. No reason to waste gas money. She finally got out of the car, walked up to the front door, and rang the doorbell.

Colossus answered so quickly that Vivian suspected he might have been waiting on the other side of the door. “Vivian!”

He reached down to hug her - no small feat, considering a more-than two foot height difference. He was in his armored form, which wasn’t unusual. Vivian vaguely remembered that he tended to prefer this form over his human form for whatever reason. Not that it mattered, she supposed - he was pretty attractive either way. She supposed he just enjoyed the utility of being constantly invulnerable.

Vivian smiled, returning the squeeze. “Piotr.”

He ushered her through the front door, leading her into the hallway. His footsteps echoed gently in the empty hall. “It has been a long time since I have seen you. I trust you are well?”

“Well enough. How have you been?”

“Ah, the same.”

“Overworked and underappreciated? I know the feeling.”

Vivian followed Colossus into the kitchen. It was a small, cozy little room - all warm greens and browns and mahogany, cluttered with silver appliances and papers everywhere. It was one of several kitchenettes in the mansion - the place was too big and there were too many students to just have one big kitchen, so there were a few of them dotting the halls.

Vivian sat down in the chair that he pulled out for her. Such a gentleman. “You wanted to talk?”

More than fifteen years had passed since Vivian had been a permanent resident of the house. She’d returned a time or two, usually to pick up something she’d left that someone had found stuffed away in the attic. She’d returned at Colossus’s insistence once before, but that was when she was still in college. She hadn’t been in the past few years though, preferring to stick to her routine in the city.

Colossus was older than her, yes, but not by much. They’d been friends as children and remained so, which is why Vivian knew it would be better to outright deny his request to talk. She had continuously denied his requests until this day for the singular reason that she knew it would be difficult for her to hear him out and tell him no right to his face. Nigh impossible, even.

He could be persuasive when he wanted to be, and he didn’t even have to be nefarious or underhanded about it to be effective. No, the worst part about his persuasion technique was that he was  _ sincere _ . He pulled the right heartstrings by being completely honest and altogether altruistically  _ himself _ .

Colossus sat in the chair across from her. It was a huge oak chair, just large enough for him, but it screamed when he sat. He held out a cup of coffee for her and took a sip from the cup of tea he made for himself. “I will admit, I am surprised you agreed to come here, Vivian.”

“Wade finally wore me down. Said you’d stop making him wear the trainee crop top if I came.”

“Well, I did promise…”

“So he wasn’t just pulling my leg,” Vivian said, more to herself than to Colossus. She took a sip of her coffee. “Alright, why did you want me to come back here?”

That’s when the painfully honest persuasion techniques began. “Vivian, we need you here. We have no medical staff, no one to treat the kids when they get hurt.”

“I knew that’s what you were going to ask.”

“I would not ask this of you if we were not in such need. I am more than aware that you value your independence.”

Vivian leaned towards him, elbows on the table. She felt like she was trying to negotiate a deal. “Do you have  _ any _ students who are healers? I mean, I can’t really train them because I’m not a healer by nature - just by profession. I could at least teach them some first aid, though.”

“No. The students with basic healing abilities have all left, and we have not had a true healer here in a long time.”

Vivian  _ knew  _ once she sat down with Colossus, it would be hard to turn him down. The honesty is what always wore her down, even when they were teenagers. He was just so  _ sincere _ . And she’d never been able to say no when there was a problem. The mansion had a real need, and he was just trying to do his job and fulfill that need.

“I can’t, Piotr. I have two jobs already, and I can’t quit either of them.”

“I would not ask you to. I am simply asking you to  _ consider _ the option of returning here to be our doctor in whatever spare time you have. You have a place here, if or when you decide to come home.”

“This place hasn’t been my home for fifteen years.”

“You can make it your home again.”

Vivian supposed she should be thankful that she was dumped here as a child rather than one of the orphanages around that city that actively tortured mutant children. It was a good place to grow up (minus the occasional explosions).

Even in his armored form with his odd gunmetal eyes, Vivian was drawn in by the depths of his pleading. “Jesus, it’s so hard saying no to you. I’ll  _ consider _ it. No promises. No guarantees.”

Colossus nodded, a modicum of pride in his expression. He must not have been expecting any kind of acquiescence. “That is all I ask.”

“I don’t know when I’ll have an answer for you. I hardly have enough time to even think.”

“I know,” he replied, gently. “Wade tells me that you still work yourself too hard.”

“It’s necessary.”

“He does not seem to think so.”

Vivian shrugged. “That’s Wade for you.”

“He means well, I believe,” Colossus said. There was affection in his voice, despite the fact that Vivian knew Wade must drive him nuts.

“I know he does. If I could get my kids back, I’d…”

Colossus was aware of her situation. “Have they presented with any abilities?”

“Not that I know of. If they had, I’m sure Jack would have shipped them off to me by now.”

“They may be hiding it.”

“That worries me.”

“They will be fine,” Colossus said, just as reassuring as ever. “ _ If _ that is the case.”

“Not if Jack finds out before I do.”

“Then we will go and get them,” he replied sternly. She had no doubt that Colossus would, and that Wade would be running along at his heels.

They were silent for more than a minute as each sipped the drink in their hand. It was a comfortable silence, just a quiet morning between friends. As Vivian stood up to leave, Colossus left her with a final pleading request.

“Please come home, Vivian. We miss you. We need you.”

* * *

 

Vivian was already packing up for the night when another knock sounded at her door. She sighed in exhaustion (it was past one a.m. and this wasn’t the first time that night she’d been interrupted while packing up to go home), but she opened the door anyway. She couldn’t turn away someone bleeding on her doorstep.

This time, it wasn’t one of her regular patients - it was Cable. He was pale, peaked, but was obviously well enough to be upright and talking. He held his right shoulder with his gloved left hand, blood blossoming against the sleeve of his torn shirt and trickling out underneath the bottom of his hand. She could see the jagged red edges of a wound peeking out from between his fingers.

“Got a minute?” he asked, waiting for Vivian to step aside and let him in. He leaned against the doorway, resting on the shoulder that wasn’t bleeding.

“For you, I have two.” Vivian replied, ushering him in. “What happened?”

She sat him down in her exam chair and proceeded to extract all of her tools from her medical bag. They glittered in the sterile white light, all polished chrome and pointed edges. She fanned them out over her little metal table and went to go wash up.

Cable’s answering voice was rough and tired, husky from lack of sleep. “Knife wound. Not the worst I’ve ever had, but this one needs stitches.”

“Well, I can certainly handle that,” she replied, sitting down in her rolling chair next to him. She plucked at the ragged edges of his shirt sleeve, rolling them back gently so that she could get a good look at his leaking wound. “I’m going to have to cut this side of your shirt open to get to it, though.”

“No great loss there. It’s already ruined.”

“It’s not ruined. You could make a muscle tank out of it if you really wanted to,” she teased, winking at him. “Just cut the other sleeve and walk around guns blazing.”

He smirked just a little bit, which Vivian caught the tail end of. “Nah, I get enough funny looks as it is.”

“I think you’ll get more than funny looks if you walk around with those muscles bulging for everyone to see.”

Cable didn’t respond, but he chuckled quietly, which is all Vivian was trying to get him to do anyway. She’d found that procedures went by faster for both her patient and herself when she made jokes. And she liked hearing him laugh - that was a nice bonus.

Vivian set to work cleaning him up and stitching him closed. As she poked and prodded and threaded the needle through his skin, she definitely noticed something crawling around underneath his skin. It was metallic silver and it seemed to be repairing him - though not fast enough to consider it regenerating. She wanted to ask, but she thought better of it.

Cable watched her work, wincing only when she hit a particularly sore spot. “I can’t imagine sewing up people like this day in and day out. Seems like you’d get burnt out pretty quick.”

“You get desensitized after a while,” Vivian replied, voice barely louder than a mumble. She worked diligently, tongue poking out from between her teeth. “I don’t even think twice about sticking my fingers in most wounds. It’s only a select few people that I just hate stitching up…”

Cable was made of muscle, so tense and hard that even with a needle poking through his skin, he barely flinched. Only the deep, sore spots seemed to bother him. Vivian figured it had something to do with the odd silvery bits that kept darting around underneath his skin (which was mildly creepy, but they didn’t seem to be bothered by her needle).

“Knife wounds are pretty routine around here anyway.” She wiped away a bead of blood that trickled up out of his wound. “I always hated seeing Wade come in like this before he could regenerate. I don’t like stitching you up either.”

“Good thing you don’t have to do it often, then.” He sounded a little pleased, but Vivian could have been reading into his tone of voice too much.

“Well, you definitely seem to be good at your job. You’ve only been in here twice in the past few months since I’ve met you,” Vivian said. She tied off the end of his stitches, clamping the threads together to secure her work in place. She doused the angry red line with more saline and patted it dry. “I used to see Wade almost weekly. Not that he was bad at his job or anything - he’s always just been a little reckless.”

“I’ve been cut up plenty before,” he replied, craning his neck to see the finished product. He looked satisfied that it was tight and closed. “I can usually patch myself up or ignore it.”

Cable stood up and stretched, then held out a hand for Vivian to take. He pulled her to her feet. He wasn’t much taller than Vivian, maybe three inches.

The sterile white light cast his face into sharp relief. Vivian looked up at him, studying his face. He hadn’t shaved in the past few days - the shadow over his cheeks was rough-looking and gray-black. His face was lined, but it seemed mostly from exhaustion rather than age. His mouth looked soft, an off contrast to the sharpness of the rest of him. The scars around his right eye were deep, almost cavernous; they stopped at the edges of his eye socket like whoever had slashed his face hadn’t been quite close enough with the knife.

Vivian realized she was staring, but it was hard to look away. “I know. I looked at your skin. All the bruises and… scars.”

Cable was very  _ close _ , which she realized while she was ogling him. He stretched, joints cracking, but he didn’t move away from her. He didn’t move to leave the room, leave her space. She didn’t move, either.

Yeah, he was close. He smelled spicy - cleanly masculine, but with a faint undertone of sweat and rusted metal.

“I’ve got a lot of those.”

Her voice was hardly more than a whisper, but it seemed deafening in the silence of the room. She couldn’t even hear the din of the bar on the other side of the door. “Yeah?”

He swallowed. “Yeah.”

They were barely more than an inch apart, just a hair’s breadth away from being pressed together. Neither one of them could really figure out when they’d gotten this close to each other; they waited to see if the other pulled away, but neither one did.

Vivian smoothed the ripped corner of his shirt down, careful not to touch the line of stitches binding his shoulder together. She left her hand against his shoulder. “Is this the part where I ask if I can see them?”

“You’ve already seen them.”

Cable leaned down and pressed his lips to hers - his mouth was soft and warm, unobtrusive and uncharacteristically gentle. She could get lost in him - was lost in him - the way he moved, his scent, the way he pressed himself against her. He didn’t grab her and pull her into him, didn’t move in so close that she couldn’t breathe. It was just the brush of his chest against hers and the softness of his shoulders beneath her hands.

And then, quite abruptly, he pulled away.

Cable stepped back, running a hand through his hair. The strands fell out of place, running astray and unstructured. “Shit, fuck… I’m sorry.”

“Hold on, what’s wrong?” Vivian blinked, a little dazed. Coldness settled into the pit of her stomach, a fear that she was wholly unfamiliar with. “Did I do something?”

“No, no, it’s not… you’re not… that’s not it.”

“Then why-?”

Word vomit bubbled up at the back of his throat - something he’d never experienced before. A hot wash of guilt bled into his stomach, up his throat, and he’d blurted it out before he could stop himself and explain. “I’m married.”

_ Well _ . That was a slap in the face. Vivian made a habit out of  _ not _ kissing married men.

She could feel herself flushing, and she knew that her face must be bright red. “Are you fucking kidding me? You’re not even wearing a ring.”

“It’s complic-”

She didn’t let him finish. “Goddamnit, I should have guessed.”

Vivian stormed out without bothering to pick up her medical bag and slammed the door behind her. She heard Cable call her name once, but no more than that. Half the bar went quiet and just watched her stalk out before glaring at the wooden door. The murderous intent was palpable.

She walked by Weasel’s station at the bar and grabbed a key from under the lip of the bar before she stalked out the front door. “I’ll come in early in the morning and clean up, Weasel.”

Weasel stared at her like a man who obviously didn’t know how to comfort upset women: absolutely terrified and super uncomfortable. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of it.”

Cable waited a few minutes before he left the back room. Why the hell had he said anything? He’d dealt with this already, hadn’t he? He was here to stay - he’d  _ chosen _ to stay. He’d come to terms with this. And he’d ruined a good kiss - a great kiss - with his misplaced guilt. And hurt her. She was the last person who deserved to be hurt like that.

As soon as he stepped out, the whole bar went silent. He’d been glared at by bigger, more intimidating men that the ones currently deciding whether to get up and deck him, but this was a different kind of murderous intent. This was a  _ protective _ intent.

Cable ignored the nasty looks and walked up to the bar. He sat down, staring straight at the wall, barely acknowledging Weasel’s presence.

Weasel looked at him. “Dude… what just happened?”

Cable rubbed his temples. “I fucked up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is Morning Glory Wine by Mark Lanegan.
> 
> And the next chapter is already written. ;D


	6. My Heart's Always Traveled With Me in My Suitcase (You Look Like Trouble but I Guess I Do Too)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My heart's always traveled with me in my suitcase,  
> And I guess I don't wanna see it ending up in yours...
> 
> Time for the next chapter, kiddos. More to come shortly!

Vivian hadn’t been to Sister Margaret’s to pull her shift in three days. Her absence had all the usual miscreants worried (Weasel could stitch people up too but he was known for taking his time about it). She never missed work if she could help it. Like, she came in to pull her shift with a broken arm once. 

Wade didn’t have an explanation for why Vivian was avoiding her favorite place in the world, but he had a nasty feeling that it was Cable’s fault. Weasel told him something happened, but Weasel didn’t tell him what - probably because Weasel didn’t know. And Cable wasn't talking, even though, according to Weasel, Vivian's absence was definitely his fault. Wade was gonna kill him.

“Viv! Open the door!”

Wade had been knocking on Vivian’s front door for ten minutes, but she hadn't answered the door. He was dressed in his usual drug dealer-esque get-up, making a ruckus in the hallway of her not-fancy-but-still-too-classy-for-him-to-be-dressed-like-that apartment building, pounding on Viv’s door in the hope that she’d open up. Some of the neighbors were definitely peeking out of their peepholes, but Wade wasn’t leaving until she answered the door. 

He didn’t even know what he’d find when he saw her. He’d never seen Vivian legitimately upset before. Angry? Sure. Annoyed? That was an everyday thing. But upset? He was almost a little apprehensive to find out what that was like. She wasn't answering calls, answering texts, answering the door. The fragile wooden apartment door. The door that Wade was about a half-second from kicking open to make sure she was alive and functioning, if breaking down the door wasn’t such a safety hazard for her. She’d probably tell him to fuck off (communication was not her forte sometimes), but that was better than just leaving him out in the cold. 

Frankly, this was getting a little embarrassing. The neighbors had probably called the cops by now.

“Vivian! I know you’re in there, Dr. House,” Wade called, knocking on the door again. “Your car is here and you don’t use Uber.”

Vivian heard Wade call out, she just didn’t want to talk. She’d worked at the clinic the past few days but hadn’t gone to Sister Margaret’s. The last thing she needed right now what the acrid stench of beer and vomit in her nostrils, a bleeding contract killer screaming in her ear, and the sight of Cable sitting at his usual barstool. She flushed just thinking about it - pained and embarrassed. A little sad.

"Stop beating down my door!"

"Then open up!"

Wade kept right on knocking. Friends showed up even when it was messy and inconvenient, so he would keep on knocking until she started talking. Even if she didn't want to talk. Even if all she did was glare at him or cry or fall asleep on the couch, he'd sit there until she got it all out.

After what seemed like ages, finally, Wade heard footsteps leading up to the door. He shifted from foot to foot, wringing his hands.

Vivian cracked open the door. “I don’t want to talk to you right now.”

And promptly slammed the door shut again. 

“Can you at least explain to me what’s going on?” Wade called, knocking on the door again. 

Vivian stalked back to her front door, and this time, she threw the door wide open. She huffed, leaning against the wall in her front hallway. She knew Wade wouldn't leave until she talked. She was too fucking tired for this.

“There are about three people in this entire world that I trust and you’re one of them,” Vivian snapped. She leaned against the door frame, arms folded. “I would have expected you to tell me that the guy you’ve been encouraging me to go for, who I kind of liked, who might have actually liked me back, was  _ married _ , because I have a sneaking suspicion that you knew and didn’t tell me.”

Wade's hood fell back away from his face. The pitts and divots in his skin seemed deeper in the artificial hall light, almost like bruises.

“Wait, whoa whoa,” Wade said, stepping back. “Hold it. What happened?”

“Your mercenary buddy got his arm split open again, so I stitched him up,” she started, still leaning against the door frame. She made no motion to let him in. “We were talking, and then he kissed me. And about ten seconds later, he pulls away and tells me he’s  _ married _ . So I stormed out, and here we are.”

Wade's mouth gaped open. “Did he explain anything?”

“Why would anything need to be explained? Marital status is a pretty straightforward thing,” Vivian stated, cocking her head to the side. “And this isn’t about him right now. This is about why  _ you _ were encouraging this without even warning me.”

Well, Wade had been hoping Cable would at least explain the inner workings of his origin  _ before _ he started locking lips with anyone, but Grumpypants apparently was a little rusty on the dating front.

“Because he’s not married in this timeline, Vivian. He’s from the future and he can’t go home. He’s lonely and grumpy, just like you.”

She knew Wade was joking because that's the only way he knew how to deal with emotion, but still -  _ouch_.

“Is now really the time to call me grumpy?” Vivian asked. And then she paused when she realized what Wade actually said. “Also - what the fuck? He’s from the future? He can’t go home? His wife is there?”

This would have been so much easier if Macho Man had the emotional range to function properly.

Wade sighed. “Can I come in?”

Vivian looked a little like she was praying for guidance from someone Wade couldn't see. “Against my better judgment, yes.”

She opened the door to let him in, padding backwards to her den. She directed him over to the couch in her living room and sat down next to him.

“So he kissed you and then told you he was married?”

“That's the gist of it.”

Wade shook his head. “I thought he’d come to terms with that.”

“Well, clearly not,” Vivian said, propping her feet up on the table. She grabbed the pillow next to her and tucked it up under her chin, squeezing it like a security blanket. “I refuse to chase after someone whose ex-wife might not even be a fetus yet.”

Wade couldn't explain why Cable would have brought that up. Cable was still something of a mystery, though Wade had known him for well over a year now.

“Listen, I was trying to do something good for the both of you,” Wade said, about as honest as he'd ever been. “You deserve someone who’s going to take care of you and treat you the way you should be treated. He’s a decent guy and he deserves someone he can relate to. He might be your regular ol’ Jean Claude Van Damme type, but I know you and if anyone could make you happy, Cable’s the guy.”

Vivian sighed. “You’re still pushing this? Do you know something that I don’t? Like, are we gonna make the superbaby that saves humanity or something? Because my baby-growing parts don’t work anymore, so that’s not a thing.”

“Look, I just know that you really liked him, and I haven’t seen you even look twice at a guy since I met you. I mean, I used to be  _ hot _ and you didn’t even look at me,” Wade said, pausing. “I just want you to be happy, McSteamy. And get some good dick.”

“I’m not promising that I’ll talk to him. Not even for you.”

“That’s fair,” Wade shrugged. “I’d have started shooting by now.”

Wade leaned against her side, snuggling up to her. He had a tendency to do that anytime he got on her nerves - it was more or less his way of asking for forgiveness. She always let him, because Wade is just Wade and he usually doesn’t mean any harm.

They were silent for a while. The TV buzzed quietly in the background, though neither one of them were paying it much attention.

Vivian rested her head against his. “You  _ were _ hot back then.”

He gasped. “I knew you looked!”

“Only once.”

* * *

The bright stadium lights were blinding and the crowd was deafening, but Vivian felt like she was in a bubble. She’d been trying to compartmentalize everything that had happened over the course of the week, but she couldn’t seem to get away from it completely, not even to focus on Benji and Shelly. She saw Wade behind her eyes every time she blinked, telling her to  _ talk about her feelings _ (she wasn’t great at that), then Colossus, then Cable (though she’d been trying to grind that out of her mind the entire week.

“You okay, mom?”

Vivian blinked as Shelly prodded her shoulder. “What, honey?”

“You keep spacing out, ma,” Benji interjected, nudging Vivian’s other shoulder.

Jack couldn’t come to Benji’s soccer game, so Vivian was taking his spot (enthusiastically and happily). She hadn’t been to one of Benji’s soccer games since he was in early grade school, and now she was taking advantage of the climate - i.e. screaming and talking shit with the rest of the over-enthusiastic parents. Though, she’d been spacing out for the last half-hour of the game. Tired, mostly likely. Emotionally exhausted. She’d been trying to fight it off so that she could actually enjoy time spent with her kids.

Shelly had resorted to prodding her and forcing popcorn down her throat to keep her awake. Benji had even noticed from his spot on the bench and walked up the bleachers to poke her awake.

“You need to take it easy with the clinic hours, mom,” Shelly said, raking her fingers through chunks of sweaty blonde hair. It was late in the day, but it was hot and sticky in the middle of a stadium filled with screaming people. “You’re falling asleep at an  _ event. _ ”

“It’s not the clinic hours, babe,” Vivian replied, handing Shelly a hair tie. Shelly never remembered them, but Vivian always had a fistful of hair ties. “I’ve just had a long week.”

The  _ longest _ week on record, it seemed. Wade’s unprompted visit and constant texts as well as the long clinic hours and Weasel’s pleading for her to come back to Sister Margaret’s had left Vivian so  _ drained _ . She’d tried to push the mess that Cable made into the back of her mind for the sake of her own mental health. And Colossus - she had too much to think about to even go there. The soccer game had been last minute as well; about thirty seconds after Wade left, she got a call from Lucy - the secretary at Shelly and Benji’s school - letting her know that Jack wouldn’t be able to show up to Benji’s soccer game.

“Well, the other moms are taking everyone for pizza afterwards,” Benji said, standing up. The coach was calling for him to get his ass back down to the field. “So wake up, we’ve got to go have fun!”

“I’m awake!” Vivian said, waving her son off. “Don’t worry about me! Go kick some ass!”

“Language, mom!”

There it was again - Benji viciously and vividly reminding her of Colossus. Speaking of mutants - she’d been monitoring Benji all night to make sure that he wasn’t showing signs of a mutation. Between the two of her kids, he was the one who was more likely to have one. Not to say that she hadn’t been monitoring Shelly as well - she definitely had been. She hadn’t seen anything yet, but that wasn’t to say that something couldn’t crop up.

Vivian had been nervous ever since her conversation with Colossus. The idea that either of her kids could be hiding a mutation scared the shit out of her. What would Jack do if he found out before she did? She didn’t want to think about it - she’d rather take preemptive measures.

And she hadn’t thought about returning to Xavier’s Mansion since her visit earlier in the week. She needed time before she was ready to give Colossus an answer. She already knew what her answer would be, she just didn’t want to think about it yet.

Shelly poked her again. “Mom, come on. Stand up and yell again or something. You look like you’re sleeping with your eyes open.”

Vivian stood up with Shelly to watch the rest of the game. That’s when she noticed something: Benji was  _ good. _ Which, Benji had always been good. But he was just a little too good for a ninth grader. And he was  _ fast _ . Benji wasn’t so fast that he seemed strange necessarily, just a little out of place.

Vivian leaned down next to Shelley’s ear. “How long has your brother been that good?”

Shelly looked a little shifty. “Uh, he’s always been that good?”

“There’s good, and then there’s  _ that  _ good.”

“I mean, he’s just fast, mom....” 

There's  _fast_ , and then there's tripping two kids and stealing the soccer ball from them before the coaches could even figure out what happened.

“Shelly, I’m going to ask you something, and you need to be honest. Does Benji have a mutation?”

“Yes.”

“Does your dad know?”

Shelly shook her head. “No, he doesn’t usually watch the games. He flirts with the teachers.”

“Well, that’s a whole other problem right there. Do you have a mutation?”

“Yes.”

“We’ll talk about this after the game, but you have got to keep it hidden from your dad until I can figure out what to do.”

“Okay.”

* * *

Wade was certain Cable was going to be tougher to deal with than Vivian. Both he and Vivian were stubborn, but Vivian would at least listen for more than thirty seconds without shooting at him or aiming a knife between his eyes. This time, Wade had to be prepared for a confrontation. 

When Wade finally found his way back to the X-Mansion after spending most of the day lounging on Vivian’s couch, he was ready to knock some sense into Cable - in his own way, of course. Which basically included a small pep talk and making Cable feel like an idiot. Wade felt like this would accomplish his goals with more efficiency than an older-brother type,  _ I’m gonna fuck you up _ threat. Plus, shaming Cable and making him feel guilty for fucking up would be infinitely more satisfying.

Wade's method was simple: full-on call-out post. Facebook Mom style.

Wade burst into Cable’s room, ignoring the fact that Cable was dressed only in a towel, and glared at him like he was ready to kill him. “What did you do?”

This wasn’t phrased as a question so much as an accusatory finger-poke.

Cable gaped at him for a half-second before yelling at Wade to close the damn door. Wade obliged, albeit more slowly than he would have if the hall had been empty (people were peeking in to watch the anticipated fight).

Once the door was closed, Cable sat down on the edge of his bed, making sure that all his bits and pieces were covered up by the towel. “Something stupid.”

Wade pulled out the chair at Cable’s workbench. Several intimidating-looking guns were positioned barrel-first in his direction, and he was immediately thankful that he could regenerate. “Uh, yeah? You told her you were married?  _ After  _ you kissed her?”

“Is this any of your business?”

“I’m the one who introduced you to her! Sort of! In a very business-like fashion after you’d been stabbed,” Wade said, picking up one of the guns. Cable eyed him warily, muscles tense. “So, yeah, it’s definitely my business! You’re not married in this timeline. You’re not going back to the future, Marty McFly.”

Cable glanced over at the teddy bear sitting on the top shelf of his workbench. “Don’t you think I’m reminded of that every single day?”

“It’s been well over a year already,” Wade reminded him, almost gently. “I know losing your family isn’t something you just get over. Hell, I took a cat-nap on twelve barrels of gasoline. More than once. But you’ve made a lot of headway.”

Cable shook his head. “Talking to you is fucking impossible.”

Wade figured that he needed to try a different approach. He switched from Facebook mom to  _ father of three teenage boys _ approach. “Look, do ya like her?”

“No fucking shit,” Cable replied. His face grew soft, and he suddenly seemed to Wade every bit of his age. “Of course I do.”

“Then get off your ass and go fix it! Explain to her what’s going on.”

“I doubt she’ll listen,” Cable replied, reaching out to pick up the teddy bear. He held it in his hands, turning it over. The bear’s golden eye flashed in the light from the room’s only lamp, not unlike the eye of the man holding it. “She doesn’t exactly seem like the type to give second chances.”

“You’d be surprised what she’ll do for people she cares about,” Wade said, pointing. “Like you, asshat.”

“Did she say that?”

Yeah, Cable definitely seemed older now. Tired. Maybe even a little melancholy.

“She didn’t have to.”

Cable set the bear back down on his workbench and tugged the slipping edge of his towel back into place. Wade couldn’t imagine a more awkward moment than being berated in a towel, but he supposed it added to the air of  _ shame on you _ that he was trying to achieve.

“I don’t know how to fix this.”

“Well, neither do I! Go talk to her and figure it out!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You Look Like Trouble (But I Guess I Do Too) - Lisa Leblanc


	7. I'm Asking You, Begging You (Stay With Me, Baby)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apologize.

Colossus wasn't expecting Vivian to return to the mansion so soon, but when she rang the doorbell of the X-Mansion, he welcomed her with open arms. She'd been to the mansion twice in one year, an unprecedented event. Colossus was almost astounded - almost. 

Colossus brightened considerably upon answering the door. “This is unexpected.”

Vivian had made her decision. Colossus knew what her answer would be, it was just a matter of when. And apparently when was now.

Vivian raised an eyebrow. "Is it unexpected, though?"

Colossus shrugged. "Not really. But I am glad to see you!"

"I'm glad to see you, too," Vivian replied. She crossed her arms, peering past Colossus into the depths of the mansion. “Can I come in?”

Colossus sensed that something was wrong, but he knew Vivian. She wouldn't answer his questions if he asked her how she was doing. She'd have to tell him on her own, if she told him anything at all.

“Of course.”

He put on a pot of coffee, busying himself with finding two clean mugs. "Am I correct to assume this is about our previous discussion?"

"You are correct, as you always are," Vivian replied, taking the coffee mug from him. The mug was purple with little flowers that spelled Ellie on it. The coffee was just how Colossus knew she liked it - black, two sugars. "I'll do it."

Colossus was quite honestly surprised to get such a glib answer from her. She could be blunt, but this was decisiveness to the point of uncharacteristic. "I will be honest, Vivian. I did not expect your answer so soon."

She almost rolled her eyes. "You knew I would say yes."

" _Hoped_ , not knew."

Vivian swirled the coffee around in her mug. "Well, as soon as my lease is up, I'll get moved in here."

Colossus didn't drink coffee. He'd made tea for himself, which he took a delicate sip of. "That is more than acceptable. I will have your room ready."

" _Rooms_ , as in plural. I need your help."

Ah, there it was. Colossus was surprised that she'd gotten to the point so quickly. It made him nervous.

"Anything, Vivian. You only need ask."

"Benji and Shelly both have mutations. I need to get them away from Jack."

Colossus set his mug down on the kitchen table. "Has something happened?"

"No, Shelly says he doesn't know." Vivian drained the rest of her mug. "But accidents happen, and if he finds out… You saw what he did to me. I can't imagine what he'll do to them."

"You do not have to lift a finger," Colossus replied. "We will go get them. No court order has bearing on us."

"Just get them away safely…"

"And I'd like to speak to Jack myself... You never let me near him."

Colossus being his gentlemanly self... It was the first time in a week Vivian had smiled. Perhaps she should have let him confront Jack all those years ago. It didn't matter now, and it was probably better that he hadn't. Colossus would take care of whatever she needed.

"Don't kill him, big guy. Although I appreciate the brotherly sentiment."

Colossus looked appalled, though it was mostly just a put-on. "Kill him? Never! Hurt his feelings... different story."

Vivian started collecting the mugs from the table to put them in the sink. If she was going to live here again, she supposed that this was just the beginning of her chore list. "I trust you, Piotr."

"I know. I will see that they are safe. It won't be today, but once I have a plan, I will take care of it."

Vivian hugged him, the first time she'd done so since she was a teenager. "Thank you."

* * *

 

Wade never claimed to be much of a planner. He was more of a _do-er_ , a man of action - shoot first, think later. His method of firing random bullets at life had worked well for him for the past few decades, although “well” was more or less a subjective term. Nevertheless, his man-of-action method usually got him about as far as he needed to go. In fact, sometimes it worked so well that he could even talk a girl as stubborn as a mule into going back to work.

Wade managed to talk Vivian into pulling her shift that night via his "shoot until you hit something" method. He had to cry a little bit to convince her, but once he got one of those Cry-Baby tears to roll down his cheek (he could see his handiwork in the window reflection behind her head), Vivian gave in. And he may have threatened to tell Weasel her address.

Vivian had taken up her usual spot in the backroom. She’d had more than enough clients for the night to make up for her absence over the past week. In fact, some of the usual miscreants had let their minor wounds fester until she came back. Puckered, greenish stab holes were not what she’d hoped to see that night. Really, she’d hoped to fix a few broken bones, grab a drink, and make Wade or one of his buddies drive her home.

But things never really seemed to work out the way she wanted them to.

Both Weasel and Wade had been in and out of the backroom all night, which was strange because usually Wade had a job well before midnight and Weasel was too busy managing the bar. But they’d both been fluttering in and out, asking if she needed any supplies or a drink. She couldn’t tell if they were catering to her because she was back or because they were afraid she might leave. Wade had even sat in on a meeting with a patient who had to get his broken arm reset (the screaming was awful).

In any case, Vivian usually closed up shop around 2:00 AM, so when she got a knock on the door directly after that, she was a little perturbed. And it didn’t get any better, because when Vivian opened the door, it was Cable on the other side.

She paused, sighed, and shook her head. “Not happening.”

She shut the door again, but try as she might, she just couldn’t ignore the soft knock that sounded about a minute later. Like he’d hesitated, maybe even turned around to walk away, but thought better of it.

It was only when he knocked a third time, even more softly than the last, that she finally opened the door again.

She crossed her arms and stared him dead in the eye, wondering idly how many people had ever done that and not been stabbed. “If you’re not bleeding, the answer is no, you can’t come in.”

Cable grimaced a little, but didn’t flinch otherwise. “Can I at least apologize?”

“I don’t want an apology. I want an explanation.”

“The explanation is part of the apology.”

She signed again, more out of annoyance for herself than anything, but she stepped aside to let him in. “Fine. Come in.”

Honestly, Cable didn't have much of a game plan. He didn't think he'd get this far. He didn't think he'd even make it through the backroom door.

He hovered next to the examination chair, supremely uncomfortable. “I guess you have questions.”

Vivian stood directly in front of him, arms crossed. She glared at him, incredulous. “Uh, _yeah?_ ”

“Look, I’m sorry, I just-” he sighed. “Maybe if you just ask me-”

“Alright. Why did you kiss me if you’re married? Why didn’t you tell me that you’re married in the first place? I would have left you alone and I wouldn’t have embarrassed myself.”

"I... I don't know how to explain-"

"You've got ten seconds to figure it out before I walk out that door and leave you here to mop the blood off the floor for Weasel."

She tapped her foot, waiting for his response.

“I’m from the future,” he began, finally sitting down in the exam chair. He'd been on the receiving end of interrogations before, and this sure did feel like one. “I came here to save my wife and daughter. In my timeline, they were murdered.” 

“Well, I’m sorry to hear about your family.”

“I saved them - I think,” Cable replied. He stared at the wall, as if his mind was somewhere distant. “I had one charge left to get home, but I made the choice to use it to save your buddy Wade and stick around to stop the world from going to shit.”

Vivian, ever relentless, continued. “So if you consider yourself to be still married then why did you even entertain the idea of being more than friends?”

Cable stared back at her, doing his best to maintain the air of cool, calm, and collected - none of which he could say he actually was. “I take solace in the hope that I did my job and saved my family. My wife... I don’t think she'd want me to be stuck here miserable and alone. I don’t… But I didn’t think I’d even meet someone here I could… feel something for… in the way that I felt for her.”

She stared at him silently for a while, brown eyes searching his face for something unknown. She'd long since memorized the lines of his face - every scar, line, and mark - from their talks. She was looking for something more than skin-deep.

“I’m sorry Wade pushed you into my lap.”

“He didn’t push me," Cable said. "And I’m glad he brought me here.”

Vivian sat down in her chair, finally at eye level with him. She stayed a careful distance away - a safe distance away. Enough distance that she didn’t feel like getting up to hug him.

“I was raised in the X-Mansion. I left when I was eighteen because I was determined to go off to college and become a doctor. I got pregnant when I was twenty, got married, had my son. Made it through college. A year into medical school, I got pregnant again, which leaves something to be said about the quality of sex education at the X-Mansion because I obviously didn’t know how to make my ex-husband put on a condom.”

Cable’s eyebrow was quirked, but he didn’t say anything.

“When my son was nine, he got hit by a car. I came home to a yard full of sirens and flashing lights. I never thought he would be in the back of one, but he was. His leg was crushed and his lung burst. I managed to heal his lung and correct some of the damage to his leg.”

“I’m sorry.”

“He’s fine now. My ex-husband found out. He didn’t know I was a mutant, you see. He figured it out because how does one explain this kind of miracle, but for mutant abilities. He served me with divorce papers the next day, took both of my kids, called the hospital where I worked and had them fire me. I lost my kushy, fancy job that I loved and worked hard at, and I lost my kids. They live about two miles from here, and I don’t get to see them unless my ex-husband doesn’t show up to something.”

Cable didn't quite know what to say to that.

“We make a pair, don’t we?”

"Seems that way, doesn't it?"

They sat in silence for a while, not much else to say. Finally, Vivian reached out and took his hands in hers, but didn't say anything.

“I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. What do I have to do to fix this?”

“Take me home.”

Again, he raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

“Not like that. I’m done for the night and I haven’t slept in days anyway. Just come and spend some time with me away from this dump where we can talk. This is not unsalvageable, but we need to work through some things first.”

Cable nodded. “Alright.”

When Vivian opened the door, she found a wall of people with their ears pressed to the wood. Several of them teetered and backed up, one of them fell flat on his face. Wade and Weasel were at the forefront, bar abandoned.

She rolled her eyes. “Y’all are some nosey bastards.”

 

* * *

 

Vivian climbed into the cab of Cable’s truck. The seats were soft, cushioned leather upholstery, cracked from age and peeling in places. The dash was equally as cracked and peeling - and a little sticky from sitting out in the hot sun. She had no idea what model it could be; she barely drove enough to know the model of her own car. Nevertheless, the front cab of the truck was comfortable and smelled like leather.

“I like this truck. It’s got character.”

When Cable crunk it up, it stalled a bit before roaring to life. “Stole it about a year ago from some hicks outside of town.”

“Yeah, seems more suited to hauling around a dog and a cooler of beer than Marty McFly and his futuristic supersoldier weapons.”

“I don’t know who that is.”

Vivian kicked her shoes off and put her feet up on the dashboard. “Back to the Future? Don’t worry, Wade and I will make you watch it. Are movies even still a thing where… when… you’re from?”

He smirked, amused by her familiarity. “Yeah, but I never had much time for them.”

“Well, you do now.” 

Vivian rolled down her window to breathe the night air. The city was stale and damp, but the smell got less and less oppressive the further away they got from the red light district where Sister Margaret's was located. Skyscrapers gave way to office buildings and medical facilities. Parking decks became gated lots. And the closer they got to the interstate exit, the more Vivian didn't want to go home yet. 

They rolled to a stop at the light.

Vivian caught his attention. “Hey, turn left here.”

“I thought we go right?”

“Just go with it.”

He turned left.

They drove until they were no longer in the city, until the skyscrapers and concrete and steel gave way to rolling hills and green fields and unnamed crops. Both of them had been silent since they left the city. They filled the silence with the sound of the radio, the breeze rushing through the open windows, and the cool night breeze filling the cab of the truck. 

“Pull into that field.”

Cable did as she asked and pulled into the field, careful to tread only where he could already see the tracks of some farmer’s truck. Vivian reached into the backseat and grabbed her bag and jacket, along with a couple of Cable’s utility rolls and a worn denim jacket she found wedged up next to a pillow.

Cable watched her collect all of the stuff from his backseat. “What are you doing?”

“Humor me.”

She got out of the truck, let down the back gate, and threw everything into the bed of the truck, arranging it until the makeshift bed was relatively comfy. She marched back around to the passenger’s side and stuck her head in the window. She reached across the cab to turn up the radio, fiddling with the knobs until she found a station she was satisfied with.

“You coming?” she asked.

Cable blinked, but the corners of his mouth turned up into the barest hint of a real smile. “Yes, ma’am.”

Vivian crawled up into the bed of the truck, clutching the denim jacket like a blanket. She leaned against the back window so that she could stare up at the sky. Cable climbed into the bed after her and settled in close next to her, his arm just barely brushing hers. The stars were bright, glittering like diamonds in the night sky.

“This makes me feel like a kid again,” Vivian said, pulling the denim jacket up under her chin. It smelled spicy - not dirty or musty, but worn and masculine and comfortable. “Growing up, my friends and I used to ride out into the fields and sit out arounds for hours listening to music and staring up at the stars.”

“Did you grow up here?”

“I grew up down south, until my mutation showed up. I think I was twelve or thirteen when I went to live at the X-Mansion. We used to sneak out late at night and come out here.”

“You can’t see the stars in my time.”

Vivian looped her arm through his, tucking his arm under the jacket with her. “Ten points for the past, then. It’s not so bad here.”

Cable looked down at her. “Not so bad at all.”

The song playing over the radio was an older country song - maybe Patsy Cline or some other old crooner. Vivian almost never used the radio anymore (too many commercials, not enough music). And she’d be hard-pressed to choose a country station if she did choose the radio, but there was something pleasant about the late-night country music radio shows - the ones that played the old, slow songs rather than the cute, pop-country party songs. 

“You never really answered me earlier," Vivian said. "Why didn’t you tell me you were married? What made you think about… this? About me, I guess.”

“What would you have done if I told you I was married?”

“Honestly? Wouldn’t have come near you - beyond a professional capacity, of course.”

“I thought I’d processed things," Cable replied, staring off into the sky. "Come to terms with the fact that I’ll never see them again - that she wouldn’t want me to be alone and miserable.”

“She sounds lovely.”

“She is.”

“Why me, then?”

“You have compassion. Determination. Patience. I respect that. Why’d you reciprocate?”

“You’re heartfelt, even when you don’t mean to be. You’re not pushy. And you're funny, in your own way.”

Cable chuckled. "I've never been called funny."

"And I've never been called patient, but we see things in others that we don't see in ourselves." Vivian took his hand, lacing her fingers through his. “Anything else you need to tell me?”

“Name’s Nathan. Nathan Summers.”

“Duly noted.”

Vivian snuggled into his side, the weight of his arm warm and comforting. They stayed like that for about an hour, until Vivian was starting to doze off. 

Cable carefully extricated himself from her grip, gently nudging her awake. “I guess we should go.”

Vivian yawned. “Yeah. I’m gonna end up falling asleep on the way back.”

“Go ahead - I’ll get us back to your place.”

The ride going home was much longer than the ride out to the field, as it always was. Vivian must have slept the whole ride because she didn't remember ever giving Cable directions. Nevertheless, Cable got them home in one piece and without shaking her awake.

When they pulled up to Vivian's apartment, Cable parked in one of the front spaces. He waited for her to grab her bag and jacket out of the back of the cab. She started to shrug the denim jacket off.

“You can keep the jacket,” Cable said. “It looks good on you.”

Vivian couldn't resist teasing him a little. “So you like when I wear your clothes?”

“Well, I guess I do.”

Vivian climbed down, and before she shut the door, she had a thought. Normally, she'd wouldn't be quite so keen on having someone stay the night right after an argument, but with his job being as dangerous as it was and her inability to stay awake some nights, now seemed as good a time as any.

She turned back to look at him. "Hey, uh, it's late, and I'd hate for you to have to drive back to… wherever you live… So, if you want to stay…"

Vivian couldn't call it a smile, but the corners of his mouth turned up in something close. "I've got nowhere to be. Be glad to."

She mirrored his grin. "Well, come on in then, cowboy."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is basically just smut, with a little bitty bit of plot. An apology for making y'all wait so long for the good booty.


End file.
